Dark Embrace
by Halamee2559
Summary: All she had ever wanted was to see him again, the young boy that opened her heart so long ago. After spending an eternity without solace, suffering in cold silence... she finally can. Alma x Becket, F.E.A.R.2 novel, very mature themes
1. Prologue: Reflection

**AN**: This story will be mostly centered around the darker aspects of Alma's... coveting towards Becket, so don't expect anything like those sappy romance fluffs you're used to reading...

At any rate here is the prologue, for what may hopefully become a novelization (in my own way) of F.E.A.R. 2.

**Disclaimer**: F.E.A.R. is the rightful property of Monolith and Warner Bros. Interactive

* * *

_**Prologue:**_

**_Reflection_**

* * *

_Alma…_

It was, at the time, a name and nothing more to me. Just a disturbed, barely eight year-old girl with a flowing red dress, long, raven black hair… and a truly unsettling intensity boring from her gold, dark eyes.

_Like she was looking right though me…_

The mission dossier, held within my hands on that fateful ride into unfamiliar territory, seemed to make her out as a malevolent force to be reckoned with; an overwhelmingly powerful psychic who had the ability to warp the very fabric of existence into whatever hell she dreamed about.

_Oh, how right they were…_

It was hard to even fathom that _she_ had killed several people already that evening… leaving nothing but burned bones and puddles of gore behind in her wake.

My first thoughts, when I beheld this tragic little child for the very first time, was not of anger for the lives whose chords she'd cut…, not reverence for the fearsome aura that radiated so suffocating from within her troubled soul…, there was not even the faintest trace of fear of what she could do to me...

I felt... sad.

Dismay fell over my conscience, like… like I had forgotten something that had been very important at one time in my life; something… or _someone…_ that left an everlasting imprint in my mind. Try as I might to remember, I just couldn't find it within myself to figure out why?

And…, I could tell that _Alma_ knew of this as well, both in the underlining sorrow that her flaxen eyes drove into me… and that… well, let's just say, her more _personal_ altercations have left me wondering if perhaps…

_She had loved me…_

I don't know how… I don't know when… or even why she chose _me_, above everything else. Here I was, some lonely wan-a-be hero trying to save the world… and I couldn't even bring myself to remember who Alma really was…

Or… had been…

'_Do you see…?'_

I hadn't understood what she meant by that, the first time we met… But when those soft, melodic words left her supple lips, I could feel it…

That memory… of her, so long ago forgotten, trying to resurface and bring me to understand just what in the hell she wanted from me.

_Sometimes though…, I find myself wishing… that I never had known-_

_About us… about… how she truly felt for me…_

…For the truth can sometimes be far more terrifying… than death.

_Her_ thoughts, and _mine_, spliced together like the missing puzzle pieces of a psychic framework.

_Alma…_

The one person that finally made me see myself for who I really was...

And how her infatuation and unabashed feelings for me… would ultimately lead to my descent into absolute madness….

My name is Michael Becket.

And this is how, the world ends…


	2. Interval 01: Premonition

Disclaimer: F.E.A.R. is the rightful property of Monolith and Warner Bros. Interactive

* * *

_**Interval 01:**_

_**Premonition**_

* * *

The darkness was his friend…, that's what Michael kept telling himself, all these years. When the nightmares came, he found that embracing this shroud of the unknowing had served to ease his mind through many a fortnight.

Not this time…

His senses cloyed with the stench of oil and smoke, the clammy air heavy with malice, closing like a glove around him. Wind howled relentlessly past the Delta soldier, sounding like some horrible beast unto itself. Given, he'd rather not know whether that assumption was remotely true or not…

All he'd have to do is stay there, thinking those happy, peaceful thoughts of yesteryear, and eventually… he'd reach that warm and cozy place he called home once again.

Sadly… a little girl had other plans for him…

"_Te-he-he…"_

Sgt. Michael Becket awoke with a start, his hard eyes deeming that he was facing cracked, horribly charred asphalt; he'd been lying prostrate on the ground. It was so very… very dark outside, sans the cherry glow from the nearby flames that wreathed the wrecked car at his side.

Synoptic flashes of golden light brooked across his vision, nearly blinding him from the intensity. His head swam with nausea, like the worst hangover ever. Michael clearly blanched at this, wishing that whatever was making it happen was just stop.

As if on queue, it did.

'What… what was that …?'

Gloved hands found purchase underneath him, indicating his default military fatigues… just prior to moving out with his unit: Dark Signal. He rose unsteadily to his knees… and froze when he looked up.

The skies bled rolling fire, with dark clouds racing by overhead, dyeing the Earth as red as lifeblood. It was as if all manner of eight kinds of hell had been unleashed on the world.

"Where is this? …Am… am I… dreaming?"

"_Do you see?"_

A tremor shot down Becket's spine. There was no mistaking that he'd heard a voice that time, one bore of timeless youth and serenity. Somehow… it was so familiar.

He lowered his gaze… and was met with an unforgettable sight.

Amidst all the chaos of their surroundings, there _she_ stood… looming over the older man like he was no more than a speck of dirt beneath her.

Unbelievable… was one way to describe her. Incredibly pale, luminescent skin, glowing in the streetlamp; long dark, velvety raven hair… cascading down over her back and shoulders in lavish waves. Her countenance was that of a blossoming deity; soft, full lips of a similar pallor set into a gentle, heart-shaped face, with unkempt locks and strands of her lovely hair framing around her innocent features. A rather plain looking long-sleeve dress adorned her petite frame, cut to mid-thigh. Clutched in one hand was a raggedy, deformed doll… covered in blood?

He was more than aware that it wasn't just on that thing either. There was quite more… caked onto her feet, calves, hands, even the hem of her skirt was peppered with it.

Though from who though…

For someone who looked to be no older than seven or eight years of age… she was remarkably calm.

What really perturbed him however... was, her eyes.

Golden orbs of unbridled emotion spilled from within her depths, further accentuated by the almost complete darkness that surrounded her eye sockets. Anger, sadness, despair, loneliness, loss; all of this and so much more teeming with thoughts that went unspoken by her.

How could children be so clairvoyant was one of the greater mysteries of the world… and it was no such different for the little girl standing ponderously over him.

This child…… this _beautiful_ girl--she practically exuded with divine power, like some angel of celestial bereavement sent to rend him, body and soul… should she wish it.

Michael grew tense. What did she want from him? Her expression was blank, but there was this small, almost nigh imperceptible smile touching her lips, reminiscent of how children acted when they knew a secret they were just dying to tell.

Time slowed reverently for _her_, hurdling by at a dawdling pace to allow this one precious moment between them to last.

Finally, the words that were bouncing around in Michael's head formed into speech, though he sounded unsure. He felt that it was almost akin to insulting to address this being in such a way.

"W-Who… are you?" he barely whispered.

A light wind breathed past them, kissing at the girl's lovely hair that swayed elegantly to and fro. And once again, that dainty smile was there as she leaned down to his level, raven-black bangs falling over her face like silk, golden-red eyes leering into his cold blue ones.

"_You came back for me…I always knew you would…"_

Confused, if not terrified, Becket sought out the girl's face for clues. What did she mean, came back? Did he know her somehow, sometime…… in a past life?

Much to her sorrow, the dark-haired goddess could feel it from within him, that missing part vying to break free of the constraints built into his mind. There were many locks, and only one key to open them…

…The key that she would provide. Certain ones however would take more time to undo, and even then, she couldn't push him too far… lest he become broken like she had almost been, thanks in part to her loathsome father…

A cold, bloodstained hand reached out to Michael's broad, well defined face. Instinctively he flinched in fear of being dissolved before the young girl, like she had done so with so many others that had crossed her.

But not him…

Her palm was smooth and wet, yet he made no other move to defy her. And somehow, he had this odd feeling that he knew why she would not harm him. But what was it?

She stroked his face tenderly, and spoke reassuring words of comfort from her hauntingly melodious voice, _"They forced you to forget about us…about all the wonderful things you and I shared." _

The girl's tone dipped to a more dejected state of mind, and in his reverence, all Becket wanted to do was hug her.

"_But it shall be for naught."_ Alma declared, her inner self now gleaming with wanton vengeance to those who wronged them. A dark aura suffused her soul, and enfolded around them in a mirroring miasma.

_Soon… we'll be just like we were… so long ago."_

Becket watched in transfixed awe as the little girl seethed with pent up rage, a stifling air of malevolence emanating from her body. The shroud of inky-black malice, like dark water suspended in motion, accentuated her figure from head to toe. It made her feel… terribly cold.

Alma's golden-red eyes glowed dangerously, her face set in a look just parallel to ominous. Her words were just as soft, now dripping with venom.

"_They will pay……The sinners' shall reap what they have sown, and be burn on their way down into the void for whence they came-_

And just like before, the Delta operative's first reaction to such a frightening child… whose abilities were quite unnatural… was to shy away from her touch… no matter how gentle it may seem. He'd never been intimidated by someone like this before… much less an enthralling young lass of eight.

'What the hell… is she…?'

Alma could sense the distress from deep within Michael, amplified further by her unfortunate attuning to the negative spectrum of human emotions… and it nearly rent her heart in two seeing him afraid. For many years, she had sought for this moment between them. To be reunited at last with her unrequited love from so long ago…

How could she have been so stupid, scaring him like this?

"_I……"_

Michael's initial uncertainties towards the raven-haired girl's motives, gave way as he watched her expression change from that of resentment… to one of… remorse? That nigh emotionless mask, with the wispy smile just for him, was no longer there. Those gorgeous pools of golden flame and ruby tears… were swimming with desolation. That timeless countenance of innocence and beauty yearned for something she'd been denied all her life, her lips curling into painful sadness that she was trying to hold in check.

Though the girl didn't know this, the older man felt like berating himself for somehow upsetting this princess of darkness.

Little did he know; she was thinking the same thing about herself…

Her cool, soft fingers traced the curve of his face in a vaguely maternal way…

"…_I'm sorry,"_ she said shakily, her harmonious voice not belying her true feelings. _"My anger would never be misplaced to those who mean the most to me…"_

The sorry excuse for a doll fell from Alma's grasp, landing in a forgotten heap at her blood-drenched feet. She knew what she needed… _desired_ …and in fulfilling this one simple wish, she need not but to accept, give in.

Inching forward to the Delta soldier's genuflect position before his _goddess_, …she wrapped her arms ever so slowly around his neck and embraced him, nuzzling her soft face against his faintly coarse features, deep raven hair clouding around them.

Alma's shaded eyes of malevolent flare and honey became heavy with bliss, allowing a small, pleasant-sounding moan to escape her lips, _"Mmmm…"_

Becket felt his heart skip for a moment. There it was again: that unconditional love she claimed for him. As much as his brain tried to deny it, not to mention how… wrong it might have felt coming from a girl who was not even half his age… all signs pointed to the obvious.

She loved him.

The moment it clicked, Becket sought nothing more than to wake up from this lucid nightmare and check in at the insane asylum. Or better yet, he could eat a bullet and spare himself of the overhanging trepidation instead…

For the barest of moments, Alma could sense it again. Becket's memories, suppressed and stolen from him in his childhood years, flickering back and forth into their minds like a shared photo album. Project Paragon had brought them together at one point… and those had been some of the most wonderful days of her life.

But…, it had also severed their special bond just as quickly. The forcibly induced amnesia bestowed upon the children of Wade Elementary after experiments, had all but erased Alma's cherished link with the then, nine year old Michael.

"_I can't recall…"_ she murmured, her full lips drawn back in merriment, _"the last time we were like this."_

The malice of Alma's wrath still shimmered behind her, though now she had this godly azure luminosity emanating from the darkness unto the stunning deity.

Michael's arms felt like dead weights. Here he was, in some ghastly realm of this girl's design, being held in such a tender way that it made him feel… tainted. He did not know whether to hold the delicate child, or to weep at how pathetic he must be to have a deity so very young profoundly in love with a man reaching his late twenties.

What madness had overtaken him, he thought.

Pale, soft skin of Alma's cheek glided across Becket's own as she curved her face inmost to him… the unruly mop of ebony hair hanging like a sheet over her half-closed eyes, making her countenance appear darker… more alluring.

A whisper of cool breath wafted over his neck… Without any forethought… her full, supple lips met gently upon his face.

"A-ahh…"

He couldn't help but gasp at the sensations dancing along his jawline. Alma's kiss felt unlike any woman's before it; Silky smooth and cold as ice… yet still every bit as gentle as she'd been with him thus far… the way her lips applied steady pressure to his cheek nearly made him collapse.

The moment, she knew, was drawing to a close. Very soon, Becket would awaken back in the real world… and she would be left all alone with her thoughts… just as she had many times previous to.

Alma eventually relented, her soft lips smacking delightfully against the tranquility of her surroundings. The sky overhead that blazed infernally was fading away like smoke in the wind.

"…_Time is growing short. Those who seek to divide us forever more are fast approaching…"_ She had started trembling, her voice sounding fearful for the very first time.

Alma stepped back; away from the comfort she had grown so accustomed to, that familiar sadness now lingering on her angelic visage. Oh how she wished to reel him against her for all the time in the world, to share this warmth everlasting…

"_My other self… longs for reprisal. She will not stop until the world is wreathed in death and torment…"_

Becket, while only partially aware of his fading conscience, reached out a hand to the retreating form of the girl… whose body was turning to ash before his very eyes.

"Wait...!" he mustered, his hardened resolve coming back to him. "Who are you?"

It was the one question she had yet to answer him, on top of the endless amount of others. How did she know him? When did they meet? Why had he no recollection of anything from his past, about her…?

Streaks of tears fell from her golden-red eyes, her expression nothing short of heartbreaking.

"_She's here…"_

A pair of hands, black and blue with old blood running in lifeless veins leapt out of the dark behind him… clasping at his skull.

He could hardly utter a cry as his neck was twisted around with the sound of vertebrates snapping…

And came face to face with true horror of which he'd never seen… her eyes sunken like hematite stones into the emaciated, blood-drenched features of the _woman_. A cruel smile was painted onto her dry, cracked lips…

Orange flashes of blinding light drowned Michael's vision, and pain like the fires of hell scorched his skin as it was peeled away like a ripe orange. As his body was consumed into perpetual suffering, he plunged irrefutably into the dark void of death, though not before he could hear the lamentation of one little girl, crying out for him.

"_Wake up!"_

* * *


	3. Interval 01: Affection

**AN: **Here's the update you've been waiting for. Be forewarned however, that there is some heavily implied... um, romance, between Young Alma and Becket.

I'm still trying to keep it dark, without having copious amounts of sex flooding each and every chapter. So please don't kill me for this...

**Disclaimer**: F.E.A.R. is the rightful property of Monolith and Warner Bros. Interactive

* * *

_**Interval 01:**_

_**Affection**_

* * *

"Wake up, Bucket!"

Becket's eyes flew open in alarm, panic having seized his heart in its painful grasp. He inhaled sharply, immediately realizing that for one: he wasn't dead. Two: He'd fallen asleep while riding in _Dark Signal's_ APC. And three: …well, Redd Jankowski had his mug in Becket's face, plastered with an amused grin.

"Nice of you to join us, sunshine," he admonished cheerily, clearly amused by the aghast expression adorning the Sergeant's face. One hand was propped against the wall over Becket's shoulder for support, as the APC tore up the stretch of Humphrey Rd. at high speeds.

Redd had been newly transferred from SFOD-D to _Dark Signal_ in only a week's time… rather fast considering all the red tape Becket had to get through for his reassignment. Of course, he suspected that it might have had more to do with Jankowski's wildcard attitude for authority more than his actual combat training scores. Not that he couldn't shoot straight, or pull a tuck-and-roll when the proverbial shit started flying… far from it; Underneath his aloof, jovial exterior he as every bit a soldier as the rest of the squad.

Interestingly, Redd had an older brother in the F.E.A.R. branch of SFOD, who'd been called into action the night before. First Encounter Assault Recon, (from what Becket had read) was a special division operating under the guise of the U.S. military that specialized in… _unique_ situations. Since 2002, F.E.A.R. has been known to undertake the kind of jobs that most people might find as intriguing as they were utterly ridiculous. Paranormal activity, government experiments in genetic manipulation of dark matter, extra-terrestrial phenomenon…; it all came with the territory.

Redd's light-hearted chuckle was full of beans. "You don't look so good, man. What's wrong? Dreaming about your last date?"

Becket gave an exasperated sigh. 'Oh god…' he thought to himself. 'Not this shit again…'

"-So says the guy who can't find one," the older Sergeant replied wittily.

Ever since Redd had found out that he'd been dating this bookworm by the name of Sally, he would never live it down. Aforementioned girl had been a hell of a wonder in bed, but… let's just say she was… kind of crazy?

Crazy enough to stalk him while he was at work…

Redd was about to utter protest to such claims, but was cut off as Lt. Keira Stokes pulled him aside.

"Sit down, Redd," she said, stepping in between them. Her voice was both deeply feminine, and carried a weight of deference at the same time. "Becket, I'm going to run your visor calibrations—see if everything checks out okay."

Becket, though hardly new to female anatomy, was left with a rather titillating view of Keira's bare midriff; the combat vest she wore didn't even come down to her navel… not that he was complaining. His father had always told him: "God gave you eyes or a reason, son; to admire beauty."

And lovely she most certainly was. The exposed fair skin of her waist and arms glimmered in the indistinct red lights of the interior cabin, making it appear so smooth…

That lean, toned body and slender, supple curves… not all that hidden under layers of body armor and green fatigue pants—he could just imagine her being a model on Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition.

In addition to this, her other features were just as remarkable. A soft, youthful countenance… graced with pink budding lips, and sky-blue eyes that showed her strong will, yet modest inexperience. Long camel hair was tied back in a French braid, with a few stray locks framing over her petite face. The little imperfections like the birthmark just above the corner of her upper lip, as well as the light blemishes on her cheeks… to him… made her look even more attractive.

As the Lt.'s gloved fingers moved lightly over the visual instrument that doubled as Becket's shades, her face came into view as she lowered herself to his level, giving him a faintly covetous stare.

"You know…" her voice had a husky whisper injected into it. "You're the first guy to look at me like that in a while…"

Becket remained pokerfaced, though inside he felt sort of sheepish for being caught. "I… take it you approve?"

She feathered her hands through his short black tresses, "…Definitely."

There was no manner of military pretense in the way she spoke, no unwarranted disdain towards his offhanded advances in her anticipant eyes. Keira leaned further in, filling his head with a sweet, spicy scent of her cologne.

"-And you're just my type… as well…"

Becket couldn't help but let his mind wander a bit on that one…

-Even if she was his superior, and the fact that she didn't look a day over twenty—he'd be damned if the Lt. _wasn't_ denoting the prospect of a one night stand. The chemistry between them had been going strong ever since they'd prepped up in the locker rooms…

"Get a room, you two," a gruff voice cut in, distilling the hormones between them. "You can kiss and tell, later."

Cedric "Top" Griffin, the person in charge of _Dark _Signal, was quick to the point when he need be; a real ball buster type to not fuck around when the going gets tough. Still… he had a funny streak in him.

Keira's face lit up with a blush, and almost immediately thereafter she disengaged from her flirtatious demeanor with Becket. Her voice switched gears easily as she tested out the last diagnostic on the Delta team member's visor.

"Yes, sir…"

A rouse of laughter came from Fox, who essentially had a front row seat next to Becket. Given that he was the oldest operative in the squad, he'd seen plenty of romance in his day. And he should know, he was happily married to a wife of seven years _and_ had a daughter to prove it.

A navy colored overlay stretched through the center of the screen, followed by several input commands as the opacity of his HUD adjusted to the low lighting conditions of the APC.

EKG Monitor… Online

Weapons Selection… Online

…01…1IFF1 1S100s0t0em…

A fierce amount of feedback caused the optical feed to waver…

…… Fai==l=ure—

Synoptic flashes or orange and red filled the peripherals of his vision, and a feeling of trepidation overtook Becket as his ears started ringing. Everything around him was grinding to a halt, like the wheels of time itself were being stopped.

"No…" he whispered.

Stokes, who was giving him an odd glance, said something to him, but he could not hear the words. Her lips were moving at a snail's rate.

"Are… you… alright, Becket…?" the words were convoluted as the Lt. spoke them……just as she, Redd, Griffin, and everyone else… began to ebb away into nothing but ashes.

'This can't be happening…'

-…And then the soot of them all congealed together into a new form...

_Bare feet and legs, once marred with blood… the tail of a red dress with a dark sash tied about the waist …_

Michael wracked his brain to come up with some kind of solution to this folly—that perhaps, he was dreaming in a dream, and he was really just asleep at home in his loft apartment, and all those little intimacies he'd shared with that young girl were nothing more than-

…_Long, raven hair glimmering in the red light, a small halo on the crown of her head reflecting how lustrously smooth it was. _

Why did this have to happen to him? WHY?

_That timeless countenance of youth and beauty… with radiant golden-red eyes… That familiarly prudent smile on her full, pale lips… _

Even here, now … he knew that there was no safe haven from her. No way for him to avoid the girl's overreaching love that bound them together…

_She stepped lightly forward with all the grace of the goddess he'd known her to be… until once again, her face was only a mere breadth away._

"_Be, mine…"_ she said, her hands going to his neck.

"_Forever…"_

Becket was caught somewhere between entranced and mortified, still disbelieving that the girl standing so close… the same one he'd dreamed about, was here, in the flesh.

Moreover… she was every bit as beautiful now, in the ginger teal of the cabin interior, as she had been in the other realm of existence they'd first met… Cherry embers and wisps of smoke drifted idly behind her, accentuating her figure in a somber palette of gloomy watercolors.

Alma's smooth digits sought the comfort of Becket's skin on her fingers, wanting to embrace him so dearly against her face once more. It had been fortunate enough for her to escape from that malicious dominion of hell she'd been resigned to; this small respite was all she could ever ask for.

And so, with little care to his plight… or her own youthful appearance, she pulled herself into his lap… sliding her fingers around his head as she kneeled on his legs…

"W-what are you---?"

The Delta operative was at her mercy, shuddering: his entire body in a state of deadlock; though whether it was from his inability to respond, or the girl's immeasurable psychic prowess, he truly did not know.

"_Please…" _she whispered, her cool, bated breath wafting over him. _"Stay with me…"_

An invisible weight pressed down upon Becket, pinning him to his seat as her pale, soft lips lingered perilously closer to his own… her perfect countenance and luminous eyes set with zeal and anticipation.

This woefully shameless desperation she displayed, and the fact that she was practically sitting astride Becket's lap, compounded the Delta operative's dread a-hundred fold.

Alma cradled his face in her palms, and for a moment Becket saw that momentary flicker of sadness in her golden, half-closed eyes, pained remorse reflecting his own. He could feel that recognizable knotting of his stomach, perceptive of the fact that this beautiful angel of darkness was only…-

-A child…-

"_I love you…" _

Pale, silken lips close deeply upon his… far more intimately than what had transpired in Michael's dream, and again he is taken aback by the sheer softness of those frozen, full lips, pushing ardently against him. Raw verve like a kindling flame suffuses his body… the powers of darkness flowing from Alma into him, making him feel… wonderful unlike anything he's ever felt in his life…

"_Nnnnnh…"_

Her gentle face leans to one side as they kiss, fine raven locks tumbling over her angelic features as she pushes against him with her petite body, her pale legs holding him down…

Earlier feelings of culpability resurfaced like boiling water within Becket, and the assertiveness of what Alma's intentions for him were, collided with the rampart of his mind. He knew of how the long-haired deity looked at him, those amorous orbs of flare and honey gazing so fervently at him… Every young woman that'd ensnared the young soldier into bedding with them wore a similar face of lustful intent.

Only _hers_ seemed amplified three fold.

The young goddess was not ignorant of his fear either. To him, she was rage incarnate: a little girl scorned by the world, raped by the monster of humanity for their own devices, then left for dead like some forgotten skeleton in a closet.

What is more, her body had all but been destroyed by Project Origin, reduced to nothing but a hag of skin and bones, an empty husk of decayed, broken flesh. …Her true self.

She could have been everything the world desired. And she never had a chance.

…But not anymore.

Alma withdrew from the warmth of their kiss, slowly, the light smooch evidence of how profound her love was for him. She still had her head tilted to one side, ready to take him again at any moment, half-lidded golden-red eyes becoming more amorous as she stared into Michael's own.

Becket felt like he'd just been on a round trip through heaven and hell. The girl's lips were so… so delectably soft; the feather touching of raven hair on his face; the tender hold of his head in her hands; the icy chill that dawned on his chiseled features from her breath. All of it was meant for him…

It was for these same reasons that he felt like being shot. He didn't deserve to be loved like this; especially not from a dark-haired supernatural being who had all the aspects of a lovely gothic-themed Lolita.

"_D-Don't be afraid." _The girl shivered on her melodic words. His hesitation, though not misplaced, made her want to consummate her desire to be _his_ even more so.

Young Alma leaned in again, their lips just barely brushing together, eliciting a stuttered gasp from her partner. She knew that Michael was of pure heart, and that he'd never fantasized about making love to an adolescent girl, but sadly… this was the only form she could show to him.

At least, for now……

Her mouth claimed his for a second time, massaging her cool, soft lips together with his warm, hard ones… each delightful, deep kiss followed more eagerly than the last.

"_Mmmphh…-()- Mmmm……-()- Ummmm…"_

Undisputed murmurs of affection slipped past Alma's notice, her silent moans giving way with every departure for breath. Her silky fingers clasped firmly around his head for more leverage… tilting his head back till it was pressed against the wall…

…And much to her credit, Becket was reciprocating… though hardly as passionately as she would care to like. She mewled as large, gloved hands trailed unsurely up her back, one stopping at her waist…while the other lingered around her neck… neither holding her to him nor pushing her away. It wasn't quite the romantic hold she would've envisioned, but nonetheless adequate.

"_Nnnnnghh…"_

All the while, Becket could only chastise himself for giving in to such debauchery, even if Alma had willed it upon him…

How low of him to have fallen.

* * *

_Thanks for all the reviews thus far. :)_


	4. Interval 01: Cost of Desire

**_AN: The chapter beyond will feature some gunfights, so bear with me for now until the time comes._**

**_Disclaimer: F.E.A.R. is the rightful property of Monolith and Warner Bros. Interactive_**

**_

* * *

_**

**_Interval 01:_**

**_The Cost of Desire_**

-----

For over twenty years, she had suffered alone. Two, unbearable decades of hapless confinement and restless dreams that never came to end. In the beginning, death had been a welcome release from torment of living. No more tears, no more pain. Peace and silence closed like a cool blanket around her naked body, snuffing out all her senses until there was nothing left to feel…

Death, however, would not claim its hand on her. She _would not_ allow it.

Her body had died, but her mind was as strong as ever. And for the first time she could remember, hatred crept into her heart; fury so malign and loathsome that it burned her to the very core of existence.

Armacham, her father, the cruel injustice of humanity itself, all of it fueled her wrath like fanning coals over a hot flame. She wanted them dead. All of them!! The world would tremble for what they did to her!

But most of all, Alma sought to have that one last spark of happiness she'd ever felt, the one who showed her genuine kindness and warmth when others did not.

_…Him._

Even when, in the earliest days, her very presence could break his will to live, he never hated her. Their bond had grown with each passing day, and the wall around her heart had crumbled down. Days and nights they'd spent huddled together, driving away their own nightmares, and the hellish cycle of life that had conspired to end their precious relationship.

And then one day, he was gone.

Heartbroken and full of longing, these emotions followed her to her grave. The mental toll of loosing one so dear had rent her mind asunder, where the separation from her true love became an object of obsession. Eventually, those shattered memories had taken form in the shape of a little girl she'd once been, while her true self, had been lead to the discovery of something much more… carnal.

And now… an eternal life of insatiable lust unfulfilled… was about to change.

Alma's conscious form, still entombed in her watery grave beneath the earth, positively craved this newfound pleasure. She writhed in the darkness alone with herself, moaning quietly from the ghostly caresses of her adolescent persona. Every touch of his lips on hers, every movement she made to squirm in his lap…

_"Ahhh…"_

The woman expressed her envy in resonant tones, bony fingers gliding along her corporeal body… still woefully devoid of what she desires. She was a recepient of her other self, their bodies seperate, yet their minds as one. They both shared the same common thread: The love for a man they had once lost.

And as the current of Beckett's life-force flowed through them, the Hag of Alma began to evolve...

Even in darkness, she knew what her body had attained. Cracked skin peeled away, withered complexion deepened and flourished into flawless perfection, a gaunt face with smooth, angular lines. Hollow eyes became majestic pools of a a dark obsidian ocean, the very depths teaming with the dark red of brimstone. Lips the color of strawberry yogurt were set into a wide, drawn mouth, her lips fuller and far more succulent than any mere woman could hope to have. Curtains of hair, midnight black, wet with amniotic fluid lay suspended above her, the long silky tresses stemming from her head until they grazed the ceiling so many feet above.

But, for her… it wasn't enough.

_"I… I need… more."_

Her tragically malnourished physique, once literally nothing more than rotting flesh and bones, began to develop anew. Lean build and sumptuous curves were now hers to possess, and she willed her body into the kind of quintessence beauty that the world endeared. Ample breasts, full and faultless; a narrow waist with rolling hips; sleek thighs and shapely calves... her feminine figure now a pear-shaped work of godlike art.

There was nothing she didn't have that any man would deny, even if she were death itself.

And soon, the one she cherished… would finally be hers.

* * *

_"…Mmm…-()-……-()-…"_

In the cold silence of their deserted surroundings, Young Alma kissed her love with frightening intimacy, born of endless years being alone, muffling her melody of soft moans and low whimpering. She didn't care if her body was still that of a child, a ghost, or even a demon; …she loved _him_.

She loved him with every measure of her heart.

-And _no one_, not even God, would deny her that right, _ever_ again.

Her small hands could barely even hold Michael's head, yet she pulled him to her anyway, savoring the taste of his lips… the feel of her bust pressing against him….

It seemed completely absurd to think of such at a time like this, but somehow… the young girl that held Beckett in her dark embrace was… softer… more mature. Her height and appearance was not changed, save for the lack of blood no longer adorning her perfect skin, but…

She _felt_ different… the curves belonging to a young woman close to his chest.

Either that or he'd gone utterly over the edge, into the abyss…

She held him close, delicately, as if he were made of frail glass, ready to break. Condoning whatever reasoning behind this insanity of theirs, he gave in to the young, pale goddess… letting her take him again… and again…

If there ever were a God, then Becket was sure that he had it out for him.

…What right did he have, being so adored?

Beckett knew not of her name, her history… much less even what had transpired between them in the past life, and yet the unashamed love she claimed for him was true. The way Alma's soft lips melded possessively with his own… the manner in which she clung to him so… it was like she had wanted this moment for all her existence.

Regardless of his own inner guilt, he could _feel_ something between the raven-haired girl, and himself. There was an immense pull welling up in his mind, as if something vastly important was being dragged out of a dark corner of Michael's psyche and brought out into the light.

Yet, for some extraordinary reason it remained ever out of reach, lingering just outside of his mental grasp. The fact that he seemed helpless to discover _what_ that thing _was_, was driving the Delta soldier crazy…

_"Mmmaahhh…"_

…Alma derailed that line of thought completely; her harmonious voice bringing his attention solely unto her. Slim, ivory fingers entangle with Beckett's hair, as she leans passionately into another heated kiss, long raven locks flowing elegantly over her face. Incredible sensations bordering on carnal bliss flare throughout the older man's body… those full supple lips of ice delivering such an exquisite burn he could not help but gasp into the girl's mouth.

_"…()… Ahh…!"_

She wasn't immune to it either. The mutual sensitivity evoked by their psychic bond made her swoon with rapture. It felt like ice-cold lava, flowing between their bodies, setting her insides afire even as the coolness pooled over her pale skin, drenching her from head to toe…

It was… intoxicating.

With meticulous grace unbefitting for a child, Alma gave in to him completely, hitching her bare legs up around Beckett's waist until she was effectively straddling him, her arms wrapping around his neck… The skirt of her red dress was hiked up well over her knees, revealing her slender thighs that were filling out into a more sensual shape.

She was acting on pure impulse, unable to resist the temptation.

Conceding with desire, she planted her lips firmly over Beckett's own, and this time she let her womanly instincts take control, slipping her wet tongue deep into his mouth, stroking leisurely upon his with deft precision.

_"-(…………Mmmmm)"_

The young goddess trembled with pleasure, exhaling intensely into her lover's lips with a chill that sent shivers down Beckett's spine. With crimson-gold eyes closed to the world, she focused only on the feeling, knowing full well the knowledge of how to please him, having read that _other female's_ thoughts.

That delicious ambiance arced through them a thousand times over, rising… then falling like a great ocean. It was enough to make her struggle for breath as their lips met in long, sexy intervals, a small trail of saliva turned to liquid crystals as it bridged between their mouths.

Beckett went numb with ambrosia. Never had he tasted lips as sweet as hers… or shared such a passionate kiss dripping with ecstasy like this before. And much to his horror, the heady cocktail from all this stimulation was sending his hormones into overdrive. He wished for this all to end, for the pale, sprouting princess to finally finish him off.

The sinister aura of tendrils of smoke and blood that'd bound the two of them into this realm surrounded their bodies, urging the soldier's hands to hold her closer…

_"-(……)- Michael…"_ she cooed.

And suddenly, he stopped. Their minds merged, just once, and in that moment he'd felt the most despairingly profound despondency he'd ever felt in his life. There was no image to be had… nothing visually to suggest why such an emotion had stolen itself upon him.

…It had wrought his very core with grief.

All because of one word…

Alma froze. She could feel him shaking vigorously in her arms, and all at once she felt an overwhelming sorrow emanate from her love so severe that it startled her. Reclining back from the comfort of the Delta soldier's body, she looked into his face… and found that his eyes were closed…… a lone tear trailing slowly down the chiseled visage.

He was crying.

_"M-Michael…?"_ her face shifted uneasily into worry, her eyes alight with fear.

A thin line of crimson followed suit from the same river of sadness, and Beckett's convulsions now threatened to tear him apart. His head felt as if ready to explode from within, his veins smoldering like gasoline under the skin.

Amongst all this chaos, he could hear… voices, distorted, ambiguous, and speaking in strident tones.

_We can't let them go on like this. They're too dangerous! _

_You're asking me to seal my daughter away…_

_You knew the risks, Harlan. We all did._

A girl started crying.

_No! I don't want to go back! Daddy! Why won't you help me!_

A young boy started shouting, sounding on the verge of hysterics.

_What are you doing!? You bastards! Let her go!!_

_Michael! Help me!! _

What the hell was happening, he thought in a panic. His heart seized painfully…

_**"Michael--!!"**_

The soldier cried out in protracted agony as the din of psychic backflow shook the very fabric of space and struck him fully in the chest, the sheer force knocking him senseless into his seat.

He stopped, cold.

Alma snuffled as the shock of her actions sunk in, telesthetic aura and tendrils of miasma winking out of existence like windbound dust settling on the ground.

Her voice cracked, _"—Michael…"_

His eyes lolled back as if in a daze, ears ringed like a grenade had gone off next to his skull, the taste of blood on the tip of his tongue.

And suddenly he was slumping to the side like a staggered drunk, the crew seats of the APC a trifle hard cushion for the inevitable fall. Alma saved him just in time, twisting his body so he lay flat on his back, sitting atop him so she could see into his eyes.

A duality of voices, both beautiful and haunting erupted from the deity's lips, her inconsolable bawling nearly making him go deaf as she held him tight, her face lowered to Beckett's own.

She'd pushed him too far, too avid to realize the dangers of loving him so sincerely.

And now… she faced her darkest fear.

_"Michael…! Please, look at me…! Look at my eyes!"_

Alas, he tried; the impact had thrown his mind completely out of focus, drifting in and out of conscious thought to the point where it was disorienting just to think. He locked gazes with hers, if only to help ease her distress.

It only made it worse…

Tears spilled forth from her golden eyes of firelight, streaking across her soft features in clear rivers. _"I'm so sorry,"_ she sobbed, hugging Beckett like a lost child, _"I'm so sorry…"_

Beckett was speechless, stunned into silence. The little girl's crying had touched a chord deep in his heart, pulling the strings that held him in check. He felt no anger towards her actions. No sorrowful deceit to abide his own feelings.

-Just a need to do the right thing.

His muscled arms enclose tenderly around her, holding her to him as she had before; A paternal gesture, if there ever was, and in kind, Alma did just the same, her voice echoing with tear-filled joy.

_"I'm sorry..."_ she sniffled, embracing him tighter. "I never wanted to hurt you."

The Delta Soldier sighed as he spoke reverently.

"I know...."


	5. Interval 01: Adaptation

_**Warnings**_: Angst, lime, and to some extent an elusion to suicide. You have been warned.

_**Disclaimer**_: F.E.A.R. is the rightful property of Monolith and Warner Bros. Interactive

* * *

-----

Alma had always been afraid; afraid of life, her father, the negative emotions of others... but most of all, she was afraid of herself... and the terrible things she'd done or had yet to do. Her entire life had been nothing but a living nightmare right from the start, where even sleep gave her no reprieve from the darkness that crept into her dreams. Until now, she'd given up all hope that anything, much less anyone would ever save her.

...When at last she had found that one shining hope... only to nearly destroy it.

She clung to Becket as she nuzzled against his laid up figure, tearful over the fact that she had almost killed him, in spite of her amatory intentions. This wasn't what she wanted, to see him suffer like this.

Alma wept silently atop him, her delicate features rubbing into the kevlar vest belonging to her paramour as she silently admonished herself. It gave her some degree of comfort that he had his arms around her; to anyone else, she would have been pushed away, feared for dear life by any sane human being to be this close to the raven-haired girl.

_"I'm sorry..."_ she muttered, tears slipping away from the candescent pools of her crimson-gold eyes. Though in truth, she felt that any apology for her actions seemed unreasonable beyond reproach.

Becket was truly at a loss for words, his mind still reeling from the surreal experience of it all. Tangibility was truth, if the terrifyingly well-endowed yet exceptionally young girl straddling his unerect figure was any indication. The way that she had professed her love for him, both in words... and in the intimacy of her acts... it made him want to question just how much of his guilt had truly been absolved.

Then again, what... did he feel for her?

In all the years that he'd been alive, he could not recall any precious memories of their past.

And yet, he could feel this sense of longing for her - an unknown emptiness within his soul, wanting to be whole again, to be complete. He didn't have to understand it, but it was there, that feeling of loss, like someone you loved had been stripped away from you...

And those voices from before... somehow... they sounded so familiar...

But why...?

Why couldn't he... remember...-

_...Anything?_

Alma shifted forward slightly, and much to the chagrin of Becket her dainty figure moved over an area of his anatomy not worth mentioning, her sumptuously shapely legs supporting either side of his waist...

The delta soldier glanced down into the splendid mane of raven hair as the girl's countenance came into view, sorrow crossing her beautiful features. There was something haunting about the little deity's eyes in the way she looked up at him; those golden orbs had this almost... dejected quality lingering within their depths.

Becket remained still, paralyzed by Alma and her staggering beauty.

_"I love you..."_ she mewled, the vulnerability of her words resonating. A small teardrop landed on Becket's lips, frigid, freezing, like sadness confined from the deepest ocean was spilling out of her dark eyes.

Again, he was captivated by those three simple words, how his heart seemed to flutter each time it was spoken to him. He had barely known this girl for little more than an hour... and yet somehow, he knew.

-That the feelings they shared... were _real_.

Alma moved close to him, cradling her head into the crook of his shoulder as more frozen tears rained gently down on Becket's cheek, stringing down over his face.

_"I'll always, love you..."_

Closing his eyes, Becket was overcome with visions, his mind spiraling into a convolution of forgotten memories...

_An old withered tree, bleached like bones, with a dilapidated swing swaying idly in the breeze..._

_A cloudless sky, as blue as his eyes, and a bright orange in the west.._

_Endless brown fields, stretching out from one horizon to the next, and not a single other from of life in sight..._

_Two children, sitting under the tree, holding hands like the couple they ought to be... One of them, a boy, tall and strong... his features sagged in desperation and sadness..._

_The other, a girl, as beautiful as her mother...long raven hair fluttering lightly in the wind... She had love in her youthful eyes, her face set in infantile longing... _

_"I love you..." she said, warm and soft, "No matter what happens, I'll always love you..."_

_Tears started rolling down the boy's face, as the girl reached out and cupped his face in her palm..._

_The name..._

_The name that had eluded Becket for so long... had finally come back to him..._

_----_

"Alma..." he whispered.

And prepared to be plunged forever into darkness...

Cool soft lips nestled into his neck, the iciness nearly making the breath rush from his lungs as her raven hair slid like a curtain over his chiseled features. Alma's pale angelic countenance brushed softly against the Delta operatives own affectionately, a sudden blush coloring her cheeks as her full bosom tingled from pressing into him...

Becket shivered in hindsight, feeling his anxiety skyrocket as the young goddess' philias became apparent. She was compulsive over her desires, obsessive even. Her curves could easily surpass most women twice her age, and her ethereal beauty was enough to bring most men to their knees and worship her.

It was all for him... Only him.

_"Mmmm..."_

God, he felt so ashamed....

Wintery breath fanned seductively over the soldier's neck, and slowly he felt his head being tipped back, as Alma's sweet, full lips became buried against his throat, suckling tenderly.

"Uaaahh...."

Becket shuddered in spite of himself, unable to reject the sensations crawling along his skin from Alma's touch. The way her lips smacked so sensuously between pauses, how she feathered her tiny fingers in his hair...

-It was... overpowering him.

A deep murmur of approval slipped from the little angel's mouth, and without a second thought... she pushed her body ardently into him...

"Ahhh...--!"

Self-preservation, realization, and a major dose of hatred for himself flooded his senses, almost to the point of making him sick. Was he really so helpless, he wondered? Is this what the world was coming to, when a grown man like himself could no longer to tell the difference between right and wrong?

Luscious lips fastened hard against him with fervid attention, and the feel of her cold, soft tongue teasing his skin was more than enough to awaken his ill-gotten libido.

_"Mmmmphh..."_

Becket's voice was all but gone, his hormones warring with his sense of propriety. He trembled with need as the girl made love to him, but, if memory served... the last time she'd done this, he nearly died.

"Please..." he begged her, staring up at the ceiling, "S-stop. We... we shouldn't d-do this... Ahhhh...."

Alma could feel that amazing pleasance coursing through her childish body once again, that pahoehoe of cold and warmth resurging inside of her like nothing before it. Her lips smacked as they parted seductively from his skin, a trembling breath whispering from her mouth as the girl leaned closer into Becket, her long bangs covering her eyes.

_"I can't..."_

The air around her began to change, wisps of smoke the color of molten brimstone spread from the girl like a dark miasma, accenting her in some twisted deviation of an angelic saint as the processes of Alma's aura flowed from her hair.

_"-Because,"_ she said, her soft lips dragging across his cheek.

And when Alma spoke again, her voice became twofold, an underlying consonate of a strong-spirited woman merging together with her youthful tones.

_"-I love you.-"_

Becket watched, mortified, as the raven-haired beauty rose gracefully from his embrace, propping herself up on his muscular frame with her small hands on his chest, her shapely legs supporting the older man's waist...

'She... She looks...'

What was once an innocent child... had now taken on an older, startlingly attractive form, her comely triangular-shaped countenance and pulchritudinous feminine features seeming to deify the very essence of a small, sonsy seventeen-year-old girl.

Alma gazes down at him with soft cerise eyes, the haunting red glow a stark contrast to her ashen-white face. The girl's hair had grown to an even more impossible length; lavishly rich raven locks, falling like a great curtain over her shoulders and around her petite, nubile figure... giving her the perfect impression of a distinguished, patrician goddess from another era.

Becket tried to think of a word to best describe what he was seeing, but doubted that such a definition even existed.

She was beautiful... infinitely so.

_"Don't you see...?"_

Her voice carries like timeless innocence, with the sultry tones of an elder deity ringing true across her words. Dainty lips glimmer in the flame-orange interior of the APC, the lights making them appear even softer, more inviting.....

The little red dress, now a trifle few sizes small, seemed to conform to her every curve, the skirt of which now rode well up past her bare lower thighs. Becket couldn't help but be entranced by the raven-haired child above him, how she seemed to radiate with unholy light against the cherry-red of their surroundings.

Everything about her was so... angelic, so pure. It was impossible to think that she may have been capable of doing such sexy things to him.

She leans in... lush raven hair draping over her paramour's face, unruly bangs covering her eyes as her voice dips to even more seductive note. _"...Don't you see...?"_

...Becket's heart skips.

Frozen hands snake their way up the soldier's chest, seeking the warmth of his handsome face in her palms. She was ice, and he was heat, the two distinguishing forms of touch feeling so wonderful to one another. Alma shudders in anticipation, lacing her slim fingers around Becket's head as she lays atop him... her slender figure rubbing overtly against his chest.

_"Nnnnnh..."_

Alma's lips brush delicately over the older man's features, moving sylphlike with just the right amount of pressure... tracing inward. She couldn't save herself from Becket, even if she had wanted to. His aura was filling her entire being with that incontrovertible vitality that she so desperately desired.

It set her afire...

_"Michael..."_ she coos, her crimson eyes closing. Her senses become blurred with need - a small gasp leaves her paramour's mouth - Alma feels his lips tease against hers...

-And she kisses him once more.

_"Mmmmm..."_

Becket tensed underneath Alma's body, one part scared, the other overwhelmed with pleasure coursing through him, the girl's sultry lips pushing delightfully against his. It was just the same as before; the mere joining of her lips seemed to stoke the flames of desire deep within him...

Alma too is affected by this as well, their telesthetic connection stirring up the most wanton sensations inside of her. She wraps her arms around his neck, lasciviously kissing him with intense fervor. It was all she could do to keep herself from suffocating the poor man, her lips parting and taking him with almost little room for reprieve...

_"Mmmphh......Mmm...!!"_

A slight shift in her position over Becket, and suddenly her aura doubled in response, the ghostly, foreign sensations of her womanhood being awakened causing Alma to whimper heatedly into her lover's mouth. She felt like her body was burning...

So hot...

...and so, so sweet.

She'd never felt like this before... and Alma longed to feel more... craving it.

Panic overrode the older man's heart, as he became aware of the girl softly undulating her hips against him, his hardened physique trembling with fright. After his near-death experience, Becket wasn't exactly looking forward to a repeat of that scenario. But even so, he couldn't bring himself to stop her... his little goddess.

...Not when it felt... so damn good.

The raven-haired girl moaned into their kiss, her ashen white features blushing pink as a distinctly growing bulge, buried beneath layers of material, rubbed between her legs... Alma shuddered with ecstasy at the contact, and slowly turned her head to one side, slipping her tongue deep into Becket's mouth with gusto.

"Ahh---!"

A sharp gasp signaled the Delta soldier's reaction, though Alma was quick to snuff out anything such as her tongue moved languidly upon his own, her soft lips smothering him to the point that only strangled moans managed to escape his lips. Becket could tell that his arousal was quickly eroding whatever defenses he may have had, and even though he wanted to berate himself for letting such an innocent, albeit extraordinarily beautiful girl take advantage of him, the bulk of his concupiscence rising to attention said otherwise...

Alma knew that her paramour was hesitating; his mind a jumbled mess of guilt, shame, and sexual gratification all vying for control... the latter of the three taking precedence above the other emotions.

So... she took the initiative.

Slender fingers drift downward over Becket's features, letting them trace over the hard lines in his neck, down over his chest... to the strong yet unwilling arms hanging limply at his sides. She marveled at how smooth and defined his biceps and forearms were, the muscles pulling taut as her palms glided over them like silk.

Her hands enclosed firmly around Michael's wrists, never breaking their kiss, a small trail of saliva banding between their mouths. Alma wanted this, wanted him, in every regard, and the shocking level of pleasurable feedback emanating like a fierce flame from her lover had the young girl drawing his gloved hands gradually up... forcing him to feel over her hips...

A twang of the soldier's foreboding arced through her, but she whispered words of comfort into Becket's mind, easing him.

_"Please... I need this."_

The raven-haired goddess drew his grasp higher, allowing him the benefit of following the contours of her slim waist... to the outer edges of her womanly curves, where she pulled their hands inward...

_"Ahhh..."_ Alma's cerise eyes fluttered open, a tingling moan breaking past her full lips as she basked in the excitations of having her bust held in such a tender manner. Her countenance flushed to a deeper hue as she squeezed his palms deeper into the mounds of lovely flesh, clothed behind nothing more than a red dress...

She regarded him for several moments, child-like face in awe at how wonderful these sensations felt to her, before pouncing on his lips once again. The ghost girl's insides were turning to liquid warmth while grinding evermore passionately against his body, the stifling aura of her psychic bond perfusing her with an overwhelming flood of ice-hot lust, that deluge of ecstasy pouring over her petite figure... threatening to drown her utterly in its influence.

Becket was going out of his absolute fucking mind with temptation. The feel of her soft breasts pushing into his hands, as well as the apex between her sumptuous thighs rubbing zealously over his groin were enough to drive any man crazy. Had he been someone of less moral character, he would have already taken her a hundred times over...

But he was a man of duty, not some lecherous fiend with a Lolita complex. Still... he hesitated, unsure if he should proceed with this madness and give in to the black-haired beauties advances...

Or, quite simply, get real favorable with the 9x19mm sidearm at his holster and blow himself away.

Becket's thoughts scattered to pieces as he felt her tensing up in his lap, and the ethereal, icy sensations spreading over his lap began to register somewhere in the back of his troubled mind. Each gyration, each stroke of the girl's hips... he could feel that she was at the very brink....

Alma wailed in pleasure, the ice-lava flow intensifying, bathing her curvaceous figure in heat. The psychical feedback from Becket was sweeping over her...pressure beginning to build. It started slowly, like a burning candle... but the more she moved, the greater it improved. Her moans turned to lustful screams, her arms holding her paramour so tight that she was lifting him off the seat, crushing their lips together in the most ardent of ways.

_"Nnnnhhhh--!"_

Just as she hit the apogee of their union, Alma forced herself past the point of no return.

And finally got what she'd wanted...

Alma's resonant voice pitched to a high they'd never heard before, and no sooner had she moaned it set off a chain-reaction that sent vibes of raw pleasure through Becket like ocean waves crashing onto him. The feedback went directly to his straining manhood, and almost immediately thereafter he reached sweet release.

He too cried out, muffled by the raven-haired girl's lips clamped like a vice around his own as she shared in their state of bliss, the waves of rapture advancing and receding in slow, even pulses. Two pairs of eyes sprung open; surprised crimson meeting sky-blue, both partners shocked at the acute delectation elicited from their telesthetic bond before closing them once again, focusing only on the pleasure and how beautiful it felt.

Precious seconds went unhindered, the mutuality of their passion evident in each silent cry Alma made. The cascade of heat coring deep inside of her had plunged the girl into a semi-conscious state of euphoria, her sultry figure going limp atop the older man as she absorbed the essence that was flowing through them.

Becket could feel the fire in his loins burn untamed, and he shook with ecstasy as Alma's kiss all but shattered his soul. He tried to convince himself that this wasn't real... that he was still dreaming within a dream, waiting to be flung back into the real world...

Mentally, he'd be killing himself for giving in to such devious debauchery...

At the present, however, he couldn't bring himself to care...

Lips finally parted, the girl's labored breathing a sure sign of her pent-up culmination drawing to a close. Dark eyes fluttered open, burning cerise orbs full of adoration and slaked lust holding his stunned gaze to hers, a bead of saliva dripping from the corner of her mouth.

_"Hah... Hah..."_

Alma's cold breath wafted delightfully over Becket's bruised lips, her unruly curtain of long raven hair falling over them like a midnight cloak as she held her paramour's face tenderly in her smooth pale hands. The aura of bloodfire and soot-black smoke dwarfing Alma in its radiance had become darker, more malevolent, the sinister vines of malice skittering around her figure with unprecedented intensity.

Even now, she craved for more... the child within still unsatisfied. With just the small offering bestowed upon her from Michael's essence, she felt stronger, incapable of being overcome by anyone or anything in space, time, and life itself.

-Like... a _god_.

"A-Alma..."

Becket's frightened voice entreated her to do him no harm - not that such a thing would ever come to pass - and she marveled at how insecure the older man now appeared, pinned beneath her childish form.

It reminded her so much of that time back then; a simpler life that they once shared...

_"__Don't be afraid--"_ she murmured, her innocent face descending upon his own...

"Alma-"

The cold embrace of Alma's full lips massaged against his without a moment's pause, her smooth, wet tongue pushing ardently between them to claim her paramour's mouth deeper than ever... pushing herself onto him...

_"Mmmmm..."_

Becket's eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head, the stimulation of the girl's advances a thousand-times more blissful than anything he'd ever felt before. Without fully realizing the consequence of his own actions, his gloved hands wind around the slender figure of the raven-haired Lolita, surrendering himself to her completely.

_Sinner._

He felt nothing less for accepting such perversion, yet he didn't have the will to deny her, not after all the things she had done to him. The passion behind her motives were unadultered, shameless, as if he was her dearly beloved, soon to be lost to the passage of time. No one in the past two decades had ever made him feel so... so...

-Whole.

Soft breath hushes sensuously from Alma's lips, the budding petals of soft silk brushing carefully along her lover's mouth. A part of her - a very significant part of her - wanted to continue this tryst of theirs forever...

But for now, she would have to wait... and see to it that _no one else_ came between her and Michael.

_"Sleep now, my love..."_

One last kiss, one last farewell... and suddenly this surreal world was drifting away from him, fading to ashes from a dying fire. Michael felt the pull of reality grasp him in its inescapable snare, the final words of his haunted princess echoing within his tormented mind.

Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, Becket vaguely wondered of only one thing:

...What in the hell had he gotten himself into now...?


End file.
